Learning Sentiment
by Anastasia Snape
Summary: Mycroft receives shocking news. He's a father to a 13-year-old girl who's just lost her mother. Gaining custody of his daughter, he must learn to manage his time while caring for a child with delicate health, running the British government, and dealing with the threat of a returned Moriarty. Luckily, a certain DI has enlisted himself to help him learn the ropes of being a father.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I was unsure at first if I wanted to post this. I have a few Supernatural fics that need work but at the moment, I just can't feel them. This is a thought that has been bouncing in my head and I can actually see a direction with this fic instead of just a basic plot.

There will be eventual Mystrade and some background Johnlock in this fic. I don't see the Mystrade coming until much later, but I may move it forward.

Summary: Mycroft receives some rather shocking news. He's a father… to a 13-year-old girl who's just lost her mother. He gains custody of his daughter, and must come to terms with managing his time while caring for child with delicate health, and running the British government, all while dealing with the threat of a returned Moriarty. Luckily, a certain detective inspector has enlisted himself to help the "Iceman" learn the ropes of being a father.

Chapter One

It started as an average day for Mycroft Holmes. His morning was spent in meetings discussing various security plans for Britain as well as the United Kingdom, his lunch was spent with the Prime Minister, and that left the afternoon to review important documents before boarding his flight to Dublin. He was just looking over some last minute paperwork when a knock sounded at his door. Anthea poked her head through with a strange expression on her face.

"Yes?" His voice was tinged with barely veiled impatience.

"Sir, you have a call."

Mycroft's brow rose in question. "If I recall correctly, I asked you to hold my calls. Take a message."

Trying not to be disrespectful, Anthea bowed her head slightly. "It seems urgent, sir."

He was barely able to hide his surprise at her disobedience. "I said for you to take a message." His voice and gaze were stern, shadowed with disapproval.

Anthea fixed him with a serious stare. "Sir, it's Child Services."

Mycroft blinked as her words washed over. He would have never expected such a statement to be aimed towards him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, sir. They say that it is an urgent matter, and they must speak with you immediately."

"I see… And did they inform you of what this call is in reference to?"

"No, sir… They were very adamant that they speak directly to you."

Retaining a sigh, Mycroft gave an impatient wave of his hand. "Very well, patch the call through to me." His PA retreated from the room and moments later, his phone rang. "Mycroft Holmes."

"Mr. Holmes," The voice on the other end of the line greeted, a woman in her late 30s to early 40s from the sound of her voice. "I'm Margaret Smyth with Child Services, and I'm calling on behalf of Amelia Richards. You are familiar with her?"

A frown crossed his face at the name. He hadn't seen or spoken to Amelia in years. "Yes, we were once acquainted, but it has been many years since we've spoken."

"Yes, well, Ms. Richards was involved in a multi-vehicle accident that, unfortunately, took her life." Smyth paused for a moment to let the news sink in. "I'm calling in regards to Ms. Richards' 13-year-old daughter, Madeline. You're listed as her biological father."

Shock wasn't an emotion Mycroft was accustomed to feeling. For a moment, he was speechless. "I beg your pardon?"

"It was Ms. Richards' wish that you take custody of her daughter should something happen to her. Ms. Richards' had no other living relatives and very few friends. I'm afraid that if you refuse custody, Madeline will go into the care system."

Mycroft's voice failed him for the first time in years as the levity of the situation washed over him. It had been over 13 years since he and Amelia had parted ways, and it hadn't been on amicable terms. They'd been friends at university, which later developed into a more physical relationship. However, from the very start, Mycroft has made it clear that he wanted no emotional attachments, which had worked for both of them since they were both very busy building their careers. When he'd realized that she was falling in love with him, he'd been quick to end things. He didn't return her feelings and didn't have time for sentiments such as love. The result had crushed Amelia and had effectively ruined their friendship. If the girl was 13, there was a high possibility that she was his daughter.

His long silence prompted the woman on the other end of the line to speak up. "Mr. Holmes, I understand that this is a lot of information to take in all of the sudden. I also understand if you'd prefer to have a DNA test confirming that she is your daughter. But Mr. Holmes, I ask that you not make any rash decisions until we have the test results. This is the life of a 13-year-old girl we're talking about. The care system can be tough for any child, but especially for a teenager. There aren't many families that want to take in a child her age for too long."

Taking a steadying breath, Mycroft prepared to voice the words that would change his life forever. "I would like to see the girl. If Amelia said that she is my daughter, then I have no reason to doubt her words. The girl's age definitely fits the timeline. Where do I go to meet her?"

Ms. Smyth was silent for a moment, but Mycroft could hear the tapping of keys on a computer keyboard. "Right, well, Madeline was injured in the accident, and is currently receiving treatment at the Royal Sussex County Hospital in Brighton. The nature of her injuries is unknown to me, but if you'd like to meet me there, I'm sure her doctor will fill you in on her condition. We can also discuss what steps you'll need to take to gain custody, and we can sign some papers to get things moving."

"That sounds agreeable. I can meet you after 5 this evening if your schedule allows."

"Five works for me, sir. Thank you for your time, Mr. Holmes." And with these words, she ended the call.

Mycroft stared at the phone for a moment. What on Earth was he doing? He didn't have time for a child in his life. Then there was the fact that he was taking the word of a woman he hadn't seen in over a decade. However, there seemed to be no ulterior motive. She knew he was well off and successful, so if she'd wanted money, she'd have said something years ago. He'd been truthful when he'd said that there was no reason for him to question her word. Amelia had been an honest person, and while they'd never been an actual couple, he knew she'd been completely monogamous with him. There was no doubt in his mind that her daughter was also his.

Pressing the call button on his desk, Mycroft waited patiently for Anthea. Only moments later, his PA was entering the room. He could see the thinly veiled curiosity written on her face. "Sir?"

"I will need you to cancel my flight to Dublin, as well as clear my schedule for the rest of the evening. Also, I will need you to standby for confirmation on my schedule for the remainder of the week."

With barely a blink, Anthea nodded. "Yes, sir."

While he could see the confusion and interest in her eyes, she knew better than to question him. "Thank you that will be all." He dismissed.

Looking at the time, he realized he would need to leave soon to make it to Brighton by 5. Arranging for his car to pick him up in 10 minutes, Mycroft gathered a few items that he could work on during the drive there and back. He grabbed his umbrella and made his way out of the building and into the waiting car.

He'd brought important documents that needed to be briefed, but he couldn't keep his mind from wandering. It was very disconcerting. His reaction to the entire situation had been disconcerting. He'd reacted completely unlike himself. Never would he have cancelled all his meetings and taken off last minute for a family emergency. However, his perspective on life had changed a bit after these past few years.

Sherlock had been tempting death most of his adult life, What with drugs, his experiments, interference in police affairs and dangerous clients, he was lucky to be alive. Then there'd been the Moriarty situation that had taken his brother from him for two years. Sherlock had barely been back in London before he'd caught the attention of Magnusson and found himself on the wrong of a barrel. Mycroft still wasn't sure how he'd ever let Sherlock convince him to let Mary Watson remain free of any charge. Not that it mattered now, with Mrs. Watson's death. His mother and father had been relieved to learn that their youngest son had survived the incident, insisting that they spend Christmas together, as well as make time family more often.

Then, he was sure he'd lost Sherlock for good. Sherlock had taken the life of one very powerful man, in front of himself and countless others. There was no way he'd be able to get him out of it. Instead of prison, he'd been able to convince the officials to exile Sherlock, and send him on a suicide mission. Not even Sherlock Holmes could have lasted longer than 6 months where they were sending him. And then, by some terrible twist of fate, Moriarty, or someone wishing to carry on his legacy, had reappeared. Sherlock was called back to London before the landing gear was ever properly stowed away.

So yes, Mycroft's stance on family and sentiments had changed a bit. However, continuing with his last thought, how could he possibly even entertain the idea of taking custody of his daughter with the mystery of Moriarty still up in the air? While the care system could be a terrible place for a child, he was sure that it would be 100 times safer for his daughter than with himself.

The hour and a half drive flew by, and Mycroft found himself caught unaware when the car pulled to a stop in front of the Royal Sussex County Hospital. Tamping down any apprehension, Mycroft pulled his face into a cool, controlled mask as he stepped out of the car. Once he'd entered the hospital, he was pleased to find the social worker, Ms. Smyth, waiting for him. It wasn't hard for him to tell exactly who she was; from her clothing, age and manner, it was clear to Mycroft that she was the woman he was meeting.

Holding out his hand, he greeted her. "Ms. Smyth."

The woman looked up in surprise. "Mr. Holmes?" At his confirming nod, she took his hand. "I'm glad you decided to meet with me this evening."

Releasing her handing, Mycroft tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, it is as you said, we're dealing with the life of a child. While I have no doubt that she is my daughter, I would like to meet her before we proceed with any formalities."

Ms. Smyth nodded. "Yes, of course, let's see if we can locate her doctor."

Internalizing his sigh impatience, Mycroft followed the woman to the nurses' station. Luck was on their side as the doctor was quickly located. As he observed the large man before him, Mycroft fought a cringe of resignation. Mycroft gathered from his slightly disheveled appearance and the tiny bit of glitter on his clothes that the man a single father to two or three daughters, and he saw himself as an expert on single fatherhood. He would, no doubt, offer his advice on how Mycroft should handle his situation. Mycroft knew that there would be plenty of people offering their advice in the days, weeks and months to come, but at the moment, he was in no mood for it.

The doctor held out his hand, which Mycroft took in a brief shake. "Mr. Holmes, I'm Dr. Alan Jameson. I've been overseeing your daughter's care." He then looked down to the charts in his hand before turning his attention back to Mycroft. "I understand that you'd like to see your daughter, and I will take you to see her momentarily. I just wanted to give you the run down on her condition." Mycroft nodded for the man to continue. "Luckily, Madeline only received minor injuries from the accident. She has a broken wrist, a couple of bruised ribs, and some minor scrapes and bruises. However, Madeline has an extreme case of Juvenile Diabetes, and the stress from the accident coupled with losing her mother has caused a spike in her blood sugar and insufficient supply insulin which lead to diabetic ketoacidosis."

Again, Mycroft was washed with shock. His daughter had juvenile diabetes? That was the last thing he'd been expecting to hear. He didn't really have the first clue on how to deal with a healthy child, let alone one that suffered from a serious disease. "I see. Is diabetic ketoacidosis a common occurrence in diabetic patients?"

"As long as her blood sugar levels are kept normal, and her insulin is monitored and administered at the directed amounts, then she shouldn't have another episode as this. According to her records, she's only been hospitalized once before from ketoacidosis." Dr. Jameson paused for a moment, his face growing grave. "However, as I stated, she has an extreme case and she's been hospitalized multiple times for other complications that have arisen from her diabetes. It's a very serious disease, Mr. Holmes, especially for a child to deal with."

For the first time in many years, Mycroft felt that he was possibly in over his head. How would he deal with having a child with such fragile health? How would he make the time for her? But as always, he remained cool on the outside and nodded his head at the doctor's words. "Is there anything else that I should know?"

The doctor paused for a moment and seemed to be having an internal debate. "She's in an emotionally fragile state." He finally stated. "From my understanding, her mother was all she had. No friends at school and no other relatives that she'd ever met."

'No friends? Then she's definitely a Holmes.' Mycroft thought bitterly. He cleared his throat and banished the negative thoughts. "I will do my best to ensure that she doesn't feel lonely." How, he had no idea… He'd not too long ago had an argument with Sherlock about loneliness.

Dr. Jameson nodded, and then signaled for Mycroft and Ms. Smyth to follow. They stopped outside of an open door. Inside the room, a nurse was fiddling with an IV bag and talking quietly to the bed's occupant. Mycroft's eyes settled on the form buried under a mountain of blankets. If he hadn't been told otherwise, he wouldn't believe that the small form belonged to a 13-year-old.

He could see the top of her head, covered in auburn hair that was just a shade lighter than his own. Even from this distance, Mycroft could see the tenseness in her shoulders. As the nurse spoke to her, he could see her heave a heavy sigh, but she did not bother to answer. The nurse's frustration was evident as she walked from the room.

"Ms. Holmes is still refusing to eat. Claims she's not hungry."

Mycroft blinked in minute surprise. Amelia had given her his last name. He was sure she would have given her the surname of Richards. He turned his attention back to the doctor.

"She's suffered a tragedy. She isn't going to have much of an appetite for at least a few days, if not more. We'll do what we can to keep her blood sugar and insulin levels where they need to be, and we'll get her the nutrients she needs through other means." He then turned his attention to Mycroft. "Mr. Holmes, this is Anne Walters, our head nurse, and Madeline's personal nurse. Anne, this is Mycroft Holmes, Madeline's father."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Walters." He stated, noticing the wedding band on her left hand.

The short, robust woman grabbed his hand in a firm shake. "And you as well, Mr. Holmes. I'm glad you're here. I was worried the poor girl would end up in the care system."

Mycroft gave a terse smile. "I can assure you that will not happen."

Mrs. Walters smiled brightly. "Glad to hear it. You can go in to see her. Can't promise she'll speak to you. She hasn't spoken she learned of her mother's death."

Tightening his grip on his umbrella slightly, Mycroft stepped into the room slowly. He knew she was aware of his presence when her entire body stiffened in awareness. It seemed to him that she was listening for something. She then rolled very slowly to face him. Blue met blue as she observed him. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that she was his daughter. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her skin pale and sallow from her illness.

"You came." She state quietly.

Mycroft wasn't entirely surprised that she'd figured out who he was. "Yes." Was his only reply.

"Mum said you viewed sentiment as a weakness. I was sure you wouldn't come." Her voice remained quiet as she let her eyes travel from the top of his head to the ends of his toes. "You're more sentimental than she believed. You care a lot more than you let on."

His head tilted slightly at her observation. "And what brings you to this conclusion?"

The blue eyes so like his own looked him over once more. "It's in the way you carry yourself. While you stand proudly and with confidence, you're also very guarded. Someone who doesn't care wouldn't need to guard themselves so fiercely."

Nodding, Mycroft had difficulty hiding his impressed expression. They were silent for a moment. Mycroft observed as she scrutinized him. She was painfully thin, no doubt a result of her diabetes. She had his hair and eye color, but her eyes were much wider than his, like her mother's. While her nose was much shorter than his own, it had a similar shape. Her lips were fuller, and her face rounder, more like her mother's. The girl was obviously a Holmes by the intellect and observational skills she'd demonstrated. He looked to find her watching him with a raised brow. "Yes?"

"Have you found enough evidence to prove that I'm your daughter?"

It was his turn to raise a brow in question. "My dear, there was never any question in my mind that you were my daughter." He then gave a slight nod. "But yes, I have found sufficient evidence that proves you are, in fact, my daughter."

The brave façade his daughter had put up the moment he'd walked into the room deflated as she nodded. Relaxed against the large fluffy pillows, she suddenly appeared younger than she was; smaller and meek. "You'll be taking custody of me, then."

It wasn't a question, which caught his attention. She'd already deduced that he planned to sign the custody papers. He tilted his head in question, curious as to how she'd reached her conclusion.

Sensing his question, Madeline spoke again, this time with a bit of urgency. "I say this because if you weren't going to sign the custody papers, why would you be here? Why would you waste your time, which I know is precious, to drive from London to Brighton? Why would come in here and to me if you weren't going to take custody?"

Mycroft realized she was panicking, and felt the need to reassure her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, abruptly ending her tyraid. She looked up to him with tear-filled eyes. The expression caused a jerk in his heart, and a feeling he was unfamiliar with. He decided he never wanted to see such a sorrowful and frightened look on her face again. "Madeline, you needn't worry, I will be signing the custody papers. When you leave here, you will come with me in London, not into the care system."

"T-thank you. I-I don't know what I would have done had I been sent into the care system." Her voice trembled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

He smoothed his hand along her shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "You won't need to worry about that anymore." Madeline gave a weary nod. "You're looking fatigued. You should rest."

Nodding once more, Madeline settled back into the pillows. Before he could turn and walk away, she grabbed his hand. The gesture caused his heart to leap. Her cold, small hand was dwarfed by his own. It caused stirrings of sentimentality that he was wholly unfamiliar with. "I'm glad you're here. I've always wanted to know you."

Mycroft sensed a hesitancy at the end of her sentence, as if there was something else she wanted to add. He had a feeling it was due to the fact that she didn't know what to call him. He, himself, was unsure on that matter, but he felt that it was something that they could determine later. He wasn't fond of the idea of her calling him Mycroft, so they would definitely need to decide something. The thought of her calling him dad or papa brought an unfamiliar warmth. If he was honest with himself, he was becoming a bit overwhelmed with all of the emotions he was feeling. Squeezing her hand, he said the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm glad that I'm here, as well."

Stepping back into the hallway, he was met by a smiling Ms. Smyth. "Ready to sign the paperwork?" Allowing a small smile, Mycroft gave a nod. He followed the woman into a private room, where he would sign the most important documents in his life.

Later that evening, Mycroft sat Madeline's room, watching her as she slept. Technically, visiting hours were over, but he found that being a parent did come with its privileges. He hadn't even needed to use any of his necessary tricks to get past visiting hours. Dr. Jameson had informed him that Madeline would be free to leave his care tomorrow morning, if everything remained stable as it was now.

After remembering that Madeline was Amelia's last living relative, Mycroft had spoken to Amelia's estate attorney, in conjunction with Ms. Smyth. They'd come to the agreement that he would head all of Amelia's funeral arrangements with inputs from Madeline, if she so chose. This was a task that he would handle without the aid of his PA. He felt that he at least owed Amelia his time and dedication of that matter. He had, however, had Anthea arrange for a room to be set up at his home for Madeline. He'd asked her to leave it a blank canvas for Madeline to make her own. Of course, his PA had been briefed on the situation, and had handled it with the poise and discreetness that was expected of her.

He would need to call his parents and inform them of their new status of grandparents. Although, he supposed it wasn't necessarily new. With Mary Watson's death, John and his daughter had moved back to Baker St. at his brother's urging. His parent's had unofficially adopted baby Watson as their grandchild, as both John's and Mary's parents were deceased. But now, they were officially grandparents. They'd be over the moon. However, they would have to wait. He did not have the physical and emotional energy he would need for that conversation.

Mycroft supposed Sherlock would need to be informed as well. Not that he could see his brother caring. Yes, the man was capable of caring, and did, in fact, have a way with children, as proven by his time with baby Watson. But in general, Sherlock did not care about Mycroft's life unless it held some gain for himself. Mycroft had been aware of this for some time, and usually it didn't bother him. However, he hated the thought of his daughter being shunned by her uncle just because he didn't care about Mycroft's life. He would have to have a talk with him.

Suppressing a sigh, Mycroft studied the young face relaxed in sleep. He didn't know much about children, and most especially teenage girls. What would she expect of him? Where was she in school? If she didn't have friends, what did she do in her spare time? Another question came to his mind that worried and frightened him a bit. If she didn't have friends, was she bullied or simply a recluse? He hoped it was the latter. Both he and Sherlock had been subjected to bullying in school because of their high intellect and lack of social graces. Luckily, he'd been able to gain sociability skills, something Sherlock still struggled with.

So many questions reverberated through his mind. He'd spend the entire night thinking over them if he wasn't careful. Most, he knew the answers would come later. But one question kept resonating. Would he be a good father?

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me what you think. I hope Mycroft was still in character enough. I worried over that as I wrote this. If you like it, I will continue it. I hope to update at least once a week, but I won't make promises. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far! I don't have the patience to wait on more so I'm going to go ahead and post this chapter! I hope you all enjoy. I'm currently working on chapter 3 so hopefully it won't be a long wait!

Chapter Two

The next morning was relatively quiet as Madeline was discharged from the hospital. Madeline didn't speak much aside from a greeting and answering the few questions asked of her. It seemed to Mycroft that the reality of the situation was finally setting in. As he led her to the car, he observed that she was unconsciously walking closer to him. He noticed her brief confusion as he opened the back door to the car, before it cleared up with realization. While her mother had been well off, he doubted that she'd had chauffer driven cars.

Madeline stared silently out the window, watching as buildings passed by. Mycroft could see the sadness in her eyes reflected in the glass. As he was at a bit of a loss as to what he should say, Mycroft remained silent. About 10 minutes into their journey, Madeline broke the silence, her gaze remaining out the window. "What do I call you?" Her voice came quietly.

The question, while expected, startled him. "Whatever you like." He replied, unsure what else he should say in this situation.

"Can I call you Papa?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, as she turned wide, sad eyes in direction.

He gave a small smile. "That would be wonderful, my dear."

She tried to return his smile, but it wobbled and fell, a tear rolling down her cheek to accompany it. She quickly turned her attention back to window, as if to hide her sorrow. Mycroft felt an ache in his heart. He didn't want her to feel she had to hide from him. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Madeline, you do not have to hide your sorrow from me, my dear."

Madeline turned to face him once more, obvious trails of tears on her face. Her eyes traced his face before she buried her face into his chest with a small sob, her arms coming to wrap around his waist tightly. "Oh Papa, I miss her so much."

Mycroft forced himself past the urge to tense up and slowly placed his hands on her back, patting in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I know, and I am sorry that you must go through this pain." He quietly held her as she cried softly for her loss.

As her cries quieted, Madeline still remained tightly wrapped around his middle. Surprisingly, Mycroft found he didn't mind. His right hand had started to gently stroke her hair while the left gently held her. He noted how long and soft her hair was, and he could see that it was a source of pride for the girl. He felt her body relax against him, and knew that she had drifted off. The doctor had said she would suffer from fatigue for a few days.

Gently, he maneuvered her into a laying position, her head resting on his leg. He brushed her hair from her face, a small smile crossing his features. Already, she trusted him so easily. He hoped he didn't betray that trust. His biggest worry was that he'd be a terrible father. He was known for being a workaholic and would need to learn to put her before his work. It would be difficult, but he was determined to do right by his child.

As they neared London, he knew he needed to wake her, but he was loath to do so. In sleep, she was able to escape her pain and sorrow. He'd asked the driver to take them to her mother's flat, but he wanted to see if she was ready for such a trip. Gently, he shook her awake. As she sat up, confusion and disorientation clouded her features. But then, as she took note of him watching, her cheeks reddened slightly. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"My dear, there is nothing to be sorry about. You were fatigued, and you've had a tiring few days." She nodded in acceptance. "If you're amiable, I was going to have the driver stop by your mother's flat. I thought you might like to gather a few personal items from your bedroom." Look on her face spoke volumes. "However, if you're not ready, I can have my PA pick up a few things for you, and we can come back another time."

"I think that would be more agreeable." She replied softly, studying her hands.

Mycroft signaled for the driver to continue home. He then placed a hand on Madeline's shoulder to gain her attention. "Don't feel that you need to rush to fetch your belongings from your mother's flat. It will be there for as long as you want it."

Once again, Mycroft found himself wrapped in a tight hug. "Thank you." Came the muffled reply.

He patted her back gently. "You're very welcome, my dear."

As the car slowed to a stop in front of Mycroft's home, Madeline settled back into her in seat and looked out the window. "There's a man sitting on your doorstep." She stated bluntly.

Mycroft looked up quickly. Dread settled in his stomach when he saw his brother waiting in front of his home, glaring at the car, his leg jiggling up and down impatiently. It was obvious that Sherlock knew something was up, and his nosy inquisitive nature meant he wanted answers now.

"Bugger." Mycroft muttered under his breath.

Madeline looked to him in surprise then back at Sherlock, her head tilted in observance. "It's your brother." She then returned her attention back to him. "I saw him in the newspaper once, and when I asked, Mum told me he was your brother."

Allowing a sigh of annoyance, Mycroft nodded. "Yes, and I know exactly why he's here." His attention was pinned on Sherlock who was watching the car with sharp eyes. He briefly looked to Madeline, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Please wait here, while I deal with him and inform him of the situation."

He stepped out of the car and quickly made his way over to his brother. The other man's eyes narrowed at the car, before turning their gaze onto Mycroft. "Where have been?"

Mycroft allowed his brow to raise in question. "Last I checked, brother mine, my whereabouts are none of your business." His eyes then narrowed. "Besides, why do you care?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I don't. However, I know that you were scheduled to leave the country yesterday evening, but when I was in your house last night, I noticed all of your travel items were still there. After a bit of investigating, I found out that you had cancelled your flight and all of your meetings for the day." He let his eyes rack over Mycroft, gathering information. "That's something you've never done. So, why did you suddenly do so yesterday? I knew it had to be big, but I was unable to find any national emergencies that would require your immediate attention."

Stifling a sigh of annoyance, Mycroft didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "To sum up, you've broken into my house, ransacked my computer and hacked into a classified database, and you've done all of this because I was supposed to go out of the country and then I didn't. Dear me, brother mine, the need for a consulting detective must be low as of late."

"It's not breaking in if I have a key." Sherlock provided quickly. "For your information, I would have had a case. I just needed your access card." At Mycroft glare, Sherlock's attention returned to the car. "Who's in the car?"

The windows were darkly tinted, thus Mycroft knew that Sherlock couldn't actually see Madeline. However, the car had remained, so it was easy for Sherlock to deduce that someone remained inside. He'd really hoped for a few days to settle in with Madeline before introducing her to his family. "Not now, Sherlock." He tried, knowing it would prove futile.

As if on cue, Sherlock's eyes took him in once more from head to toe, before narrowing. "You're wearing yesterday's clothing, and" At this he leaned closer to his brother and gave a short sniff. "you have the distinct odor of a hospital. I am fine, and if it had been one our parents you would have informed me. That leaves to question. Who is so important that Mycroft Holmes would drop everything and spend a night in a hospital?" He thought a moment. "A lover, perhaps?" Then he shook his head. "No, you're still pining after Lestrade, and that's obviously gone nowhere."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped, his patience wearing thin. "If you would kindly shut up for five minutes, I will tell you where I was, and who's in the car."

Sherlock smirked at being able to get under his brother's skin. He'd have to come back to that later. "Hmm, it's more fun this way."

Ignoring Sherlock, Mycroft proceeded to recount the evening's events. By the end of the story, Sherlock was staring at the car suspiciously. "You're going to just to take the word of a dead woman that she's your child?"

"All of the facts point to her being my child. Minutes after meeting her, it was plainly obvious that she was my child." Mycroft explained, wearily.

"If I was the one doing the observing, I would understand your confidence. However, with you…" He trailed off making a face. "I just think you've gone soft." His brother egged.

At this, Mycroft once again rolled his eyes. "Need I remind you that I taught you everything you know? Don't forget who won our little round of deductions a few weeks ago."

Sherlock glared. "Fine, I'll just have to see for myself."

While it was tempting to keep goading his brother, Mycroft knew it was better to go ahead and get the introductions over with. He motioned for Madeline to join him. Next to him, Sherlock cursed under his breath. Mycroft turned and raised a brow in question. "Problem?"

"It is obvious that she's your child." Sherlock stated, before turning to him with smirk. "I just couldn't fathom why anyone would want to reproduce with you."

"Sherlock!" He hissed angrily. Madeline stopped and frowned. It was obvious she'd heard what Sherlock had said. He motioned for her to come forth, and when she reached his side, he placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "With manners like yours, I'm shocked anyone would want their child around you. Let's hope the Watson babe doesn't pick up your mannerisms."

His brother's eyes narrowed at his words. "Her name is Ellie."

"How quaint." He replied with a tight smile. "This is Madeline, your niece. Madeline, this is my brother, Sherlock."

The two seemed to be at a standoff, taking one another in. Madeline regarded him warily. It was obvious she wasn't impressed with Sherlock after his words about Mycroft, and in conjunction, her mother. Sherlock, obviously noticing the same thing, let out a huff of frustration before holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Madeline eyed the hand outstretched before her. "Pleasure to meet you, as well. Although, I feel I'm being more sincere in my statement." The last bit was mumbled as she grasped his hand.

While both brothers heard her, neither commented. "Yes, well, as riveting as this conversation has been, we should really get inside. Madeline is still recovering." He'd noticed stiffness in Madeline's movements, and it was obvious that she was trying to hide the pain she was still feeling from the accident. He gently placed a hand on Madeline's back and guide her to the door. He stopped just before he entered the house, turning back to Sherlock with his hand held out. "My pass card, Sherlock."

Sherlock feigned innocence, and Mycroft fixed him with pointed glare. "I need it for a case. I'll get it back to you eventually."

"No, Sherlock. You're case will have to survive without my card." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. After minute standoff, Sherlock let out a frustrated huff before slapping the card into his brother's waiting hand. He turned to stalk off. "Oh, and Sherlock, do keep this meeting to yourself. I will call our parents as soon as the time allows."

Sherlock scoffed. "Yes, of course, whatever. It's not as if I want to talk about your life anyways."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he watched his brother stalk away. He'd hoped that helping his flatmate raise a child would help his brother mature, but so far that wasn't the case. Unlocking the front door, he ushered Madeline into the front entryway. She was silent as she took in the grand room with wide eyes. He could admit that it was a bit much, but he did enjoy the finer things.

Madeline's eyes flickered over every wall and surface as he led her through the house. She turned to him when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "You're not here often." There was slight trepidation in her voice.

While her words were true, Mycroft felt the need to reassure her that this would not be the case going forward. He gently guided her into the sitting room, and motioned for her to take a seat. He then took the seat beside her. "Madeline, I want you to know that I will be here for you. You will not be raised by anyone aside from me. Yes, I do not spend much time at home, but it was because I had no reason to. There was no one here waiting for me." He offered her a small smile. "However, now I have a reason to come home. There will be times when I may need to work late, or travel for business a few days, but I will not allow my work to dictate my life as it has in the past. You needn't worry about that."

Nodding, Madeline tugged at the sleeves of her shirt anxiously. She looked at her lap as she spoke. "Thank you. I-I was worried that you wouldn't have time for me; that I would be looked after by a housekeeper o-or a nanny." She paused for a moment before finally looking up to face him. Her eyes were a bit glassy from tears. "I had asked Mum about you many times. I had asked her why you weren't around. She'd told me that she'd made the decision to not include you in my life because you didn't have time. She'd said that your work very important and could be very dangerous, and that it took up the majority of your life. Although you made the time for me now, I wasn't sure how long that would last. I didn't know how long I would have with you before your work pulled you away."

"My work is very important." He replied, causing her to look down at her lap. He tipped her chin up to look at him. "But you are much more important." Sighing, Mycroft smoothed his hand across her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I won't pretend that I am an expert on sentiment, but from the moment that I walked into that hospital room, I've felt emotions stirring that I haven't allowed myself to feel in years. I never understood the sentimentality behind parenthood until that moment. I cannot promise that I'll be the best father, and I know I'll make many mistakes, but I am willing to learn, if you'll have me."

Tears left trails on Madeline's cheeks as she nodded. "I'd like that very much."

For the first time since their meeting, Mycroft pulled her into his embrace. It felt different than the time Madeline had hugged him. As his daughter buried her face into his chest and he held her close, Mycroft finally felt himself accepting his new role… father.

A/N: Thanks again for reading! Please let me know what you think! Reviews keep me motivated!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I'm such a terrible person! Things have been so busy lately that the majority of this chapter has been written and was just waiting for an ending all week. I've been packing for moving and so swamped at work. I hope you all can forgive me. Especially since, it may be another couple of weeks before I can post again. Thank you all for the reviews! There are a few guests who left great reviews and I appreciate them all even though I can't reply. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Three

Mycroft sat at the desk in his home office, his head in his hands. He and Madeline had arrived home a few hours ago, and she'd been in her bedroom almost the entire time. He'd attempted to get her to eat, but she'd declined immediately. He'd contacted Anthea with a list of items Madeline required from her mother's home, and had then contacted Madeline's school to inform them of recent events.

He had been pleased to learn that Madeline was attending the top ranking school in London, St. Paul's Girls' School, and even more pleased to find that despite her age, she was already in senior school. She was on a fast track to a good university such as Oxford or Cambridge. Secretly, he hoped she would attend Cambridge as it was where his entire family had attended.

The school officials had expressed their sympathies, and had urged that Madeline take all the time she needed for recovery, as she was their star student. Once he'd ended the call with the school, he'd begun the preliminary planning for Amelia's funeral. He was happy to learn that she already had a plot next to her parents in Brighton where she'd been born and raised. However, aside from a few colleagues at work and a handful of childhood friends, there weren't many that would be in attendance for the services.

Now, he had nothing left to distract himself from making the call. It was time to inform his parents of their grandchild. They'd be ecstatic with the news, and then insist that they come to the city for a visit. He didn't want to overwhelm Madeline… and a small selfish part of him also didn't want to share her. He wanted to get to know his daughter without the interference of outside forces. He wanted to learn what her favorite subjects in school were and what hobbies she had. If his parents came to London, they would take away from that. They wouldn't mean to, but they'd never expected to have grandchildren and they'd be over the moon.

With a sigh, he pressed call on his mobile. As it rang for a third time, he hoped maybe they were out or were unavailable for the call. Just as he was about to end the call, he heard the line pickup and his mother's voice over the line. "Hello, Mummy."

"Oh, hello, sweetheart! Siger, dear, it's Mikey!" His mother's voice was slightly muffled as she informed his father of his call.

"It's Mycroft, Mother." He replied, with a heavy sigh.

His sigh was met with a scoff from his mother. "Oh, hush you! I birthed you, named you and raised you, so I'll call you what I please! Now, what is this unexpected call about? I hope you and your brother are behaving."

"Yes, Mummy, Sherlock and I have been quite well-behaved." He cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, that's good news for a mother's heart. But you have something tell me, don't you, dear? You're nervous and stalling, Mike."His mother had taken on her "mum-voice."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, and then barely caught himself before he cleared his throat again. His mother knew all his little ticks and tells. "Yes, Mother, I do have some news." He paused as he thought of the perfect way to go about this… there really was no perfect way. So, he decided to dive right into it. "You have a granddaughter."

The other end of the line was silent. For a moment, he'd thought the call had dropped, when his mother finally spoke. "Mycroft Edwin Holmes," She started, causing Mycroft to sit up straight in his chair. What had he done? Why was he being scolded? "I never would have expected this sort of thing from you."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Mycroft asked, completely baffled.

"Playing with an old woman's heart is not a nice thing to do, Mycroft Holmes."

Then it hit him. She thought he was lying. "Mother, I'm telling you the truth. You have a thirteen year old granddaughter! Her name is Madeline."

His mother was silent again. He waited patiently for his mother to come terms with what he'd told her. "Y-you're being honest with me. B-but Mycroft, how could you be so irresponsible?"

Letting out a groan of frustration, Mycroft ran his hand down his face. "For God's sake, Mother, I do believe you're focusing on the wrong point here!"

"Don't take that tone with me, Mycroft Holmes." He closed his eyes and prayed to any entity that would listen for patience. "She's thirteen, you say? Her mother wouldn't happen to be that lovely young woman, Amelia that you were friends with all those years ago?"

He wasn't surprised that his mother had figured out that bit. She always had a keen eye and a good memory. "Yes, her mother was Amelia. Unfortunately, she died in a car accident two days ago. It's how the news of Madeline came to me."

A sad hum came from the other end of the line. "Oh the poor dear. How is she holding up?" His mother paused a moment after her question. "How are you holding up? I know this must be a serious disruption to your work."

"We're both doing as well as can be expected. We've only been home a few hours, so we're still adjusting."

His mother gave a knowing hum. "Of course, dear. If you need anything from your father and me, we're only a call away. Let us know when you're ready for introductions, we wouldn't want to intrude."

Mycroft couldn't fight the smile that overcame his face. His mother always knew what he needed. "Of course, Mummy. Goodbye."

After hanging up the phone, Mycroft glanced at the time. They'd been home for four hours. He decided it was time to check on Madeline. However, it seemed that she'd had the same idea, as he heard a light tap at the door of his office. "Do come in, Madeline." As she peered into the room from around the door, her eyes looked abnormally large as they were the only thing visible. He fought an amused smile as he raised a brow at her in question. "Yes?"

She stepped into the room, her purple plaster cast standing out like a beacon at her side. "I've finished organizing my room, and I thought I could have a shower. But then I remember the doctor said not to get this wet." She raised the arm with the plaster cast into the air. "Do you have anything I could use to protect it?"

Forehead crinkling, Mycroft thought of what he had in the house that could be of use and then the epiphany hit him. "I believe there is some cling film in the kitchen." He rose from his chair and signaled for Madeline to follow him. As they walked through the house, Mycroft worried that their little mission was an excuse to avoid her feelings. But he supposed that he would know all about suppressed emotions. If this would help her cope or distract her from her pain, then he was willing to go along with it.

Retrieving the cling film from the appropriate cupboard, he gestured for Madeline to take a seat at the small breakfast table. He took the seat next to her as she placed her plaster covered arm on the table. The box had never been opened, and he was honestly surprised that he'd even had it. He wasn't actually sure why he had it. It wasn't like he had leftover food to use it on.

After opening the box, Mycroft fought with finding the beginning of the roll. He let out a frustrated huff as this simple task proved more difficult than it should have been. A giggle from beside him caught his attention. He turned to find Madeline covering her mouth as she fought to contain her giggles. He raised a brow in question.

"Sorry, it just seems that everyone has difficulties with cling film."

He gave a wry chuckle at these words. It seemed to be proving true. "Indeed."

Finally locating the beginning of the roll, he began to unravel a bit… only to have it tear in middle. Another frustrated huff was met with another giggle. He couldn't fight the smile that crossed his face. It was nice to see her cheered. He pulled a good length of the cling film off the roll, and then as he pulled downward to cut the film from the roll, the left side folded into the middle and stuck. He gave a defeat sigh as he attempted to detangle the film. He only created a bigger mess.

Peals of laughter escaped Madeline causing a few chuckles to rise from Mycroft. The situation was so ridiculous. What was the point of cling film if you couldn't get it out of the box or keep it from sticking to itself? However, it was nice to share a laugh with his daughter. He was glad to see her smiling and laughing.

After another attempt, they were able to get her arm wrapped securely. They parted ways, and as he put away the cling film, he was glad that at least for a moment, Madeline had been able to escape the sorrow of losing her mother.

Mycroft couldn't remember a time he'd ever been to such a small funeral. It made the occasion even more depressing than it already was. Amelia had no other relatives aside from Madeline, very few friends, and a handful of colleagues that were close enough to attend. She'd been laid to rest next to her parents. Many had offered their condolences to Madeline and himself, but she'd been quiet throughout the entire service, glued to his side. He was beginning to worry. She hadn't said a word, hadn't shed a tear, and her face had remained impassively blank the entire day.

The car ride back to their home was quiet. Madeline was staring listlessly out the window. Mycroft didn't know what he should do; he didn't know if he should leave her to her thoughts, or attempt to cheer her up. The past few days had been quiet. They'd been slowly getting to know one another, and while he felt that they had grown closer, he wasn't sure he had learned enough to cheer her up.

As soon as they arrived back home, Madeline retreated to her bedroom. With a sigh, Mycroft retired to his study. Growing up with Sherlock and even now, he'd always left him to work out his own feelings. However, maybe that was what had soured their relationship. Maybe if he'd been more emotionally available to his brother, Sherlock wouldn't feel so much resentment and anger towards him. He'd hate it if his relationship with his daughter was ruined because of his emotional stricture.

Making up his mind, Mycroft stood from his desk and made his way upstairs. He paused outside of Madeline's bedroom door. He could hear her quietly crying inside. A twinge of sadness hit him as he listened to her quiet sobs and sniffling. He was then struck with the urge to retreat back to his study downstairs. He was unaccustomed to feeling such empathy for another person.

Pushing aside the temptation to turn tail, Mycroft tapped quietly on the door. "Madeline?" He called softly. When there was no reply or break in her cries, he gently pushed the door open. What he saw before him was enough to turn that tiny twinge of sadness into a gut-wrenching pain. Curled in the fetal position in the middle of her bed, Madeline's face was buried in a pillow as she cried.

He quickly found himself crossing them room. Easing himself onto the edge of the bed, Mycroft reached out a hand to smooth her hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "Madeline, I know that you're hurting, you're sad and you're lonely, but do not think that this is your burden to bear on your own. I am your father, and I'm here for you. You do not have to hide your pain from me."

"I-it j-ust h-hurts so much." She barely choked out between her sobs. "I miss her so much, a-and it's k-killing me to know I'll never see her again!"

As she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, sobs wracking her body loudly, Mycroft was unsure as to what words of comfort he should offer her. He could tell her that it would all be alright and that the pain would ease over time, but what was the point of words such as this? She knew that eventually she wouldn't hurt so much over losing her mother, so what good would it be if he just reminded her of the fact? None, he decided, as he held her closely and offered her silent comfort. And it seemed, that for the time being, this was what she needed.

A/N: I know! I'm so terrible. I took so long with this update, and this chapter was short and still didn't feature Lestrade. I hope it was worth the wait! I felt I needed a little bit of comic relief, before adding more sad. If I don't get another chapter posted this week, it may be until after Christmas before I can post again. I'm moving Saturday, and I don't know when I'll have my internet turned on. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


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